


If You Give a Child a Snack...

by magnetrose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Feed the child!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetrose/pseuds/magnetrose
Summary: On the way to drop off the Child, the Mandalorian has to appease the hungry Child before he ends up with a broken ship.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 308





	If You Give a Child a Snack...

**If you Give a Child a snack...**

He wasn’t much for conversation. Every bounty that had crossed his path had lots of words. Pleading, crying, arguing, bargaining, bribing. None of that mattered because he was a Mandalorian. Small talk wasn’t the Mandalorian way. Words were weapons just like the blasters on their hips and like with any weapon they were to be used with caution and care and most importantly...sparingly. The only time anyone would ever hear a Mandalorian speak casually was to children. They needed the words, the guidance, and the assurance of the Mandalorian way of life. 

The asset, his newest bounty, the 50-year-old child sitting in the little floating bassinet wasn’t much for words either. They would stare at him uncertainly or with curiosity and he would occasionally indulge the Child with a stare in return. They hadn’t woken until the ship had left the airspace of Arvala-7. He looked back at the child and they blinked at him curiously, sleepily.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself--that wasn’t the Mandalorian way--he was fascinated by the tiny creature. He hadn’t seen anything like it before and he was intimately familiar with the database of galactic alien species. In fact, he was having misgivings about why former Imperials were trying to find the unusual alien, and a Child at that. To trade a whole camtono of Beskar steel for one child... 

The Child whined and he looked back at them. The Child was making a disgruntled face. The Child hiccuped and then farted loudly. They smiled and then squeaked. A little light in his visor blinked yellow indicating a foreign substance in the air. He leaned over and pressed the button on the dash for the air scrubber. The vents whined for a solid minute before the light in his visor went out. 

The Child glanced around the cockpit in awe as the air scrubbers completed its cycle. When it did they started to move as if they were about to climb out of the bassinet. 

He used one finger and pushed the Child back into their blankets.

The Child whined unhappily and wiggled their tiny claws at him and tried again. He repeated the maneuver. 

He let a single word slip out. “Stay.”

The Child’s ears flattened. They were irritated. They let out a sigh and their mouth puckered into a pout. At least the Child understood him.

He set the hyperspace coordinates and pulled the lever that boomeranged the ship into the first leg the journey back to the Imperial remnants.

Duty, honor...these were facets of the Mandalorian way, and it was his duty and honor to respect the Guild code to deliver all bounties as promised. As soon as he’d laid eyes on the Child, however, he’d been unable to shake the feeling in his gut that something wasn’t right. The lack of a bounty puck, no chain code, the sight of stormtroopers, the engraved stamp of the Empire on the brick of Beskar; None of it felt right. 

The Child whined again and he looked back at them. Their eyes were watery and their mouth was opening and closing in a way that was hard to misinterpret. The Child was hungry. 

He got up and grabbed the ration box out of the overhead container. It was one of the few things the Jawas had been unable to reach. 

He plucked one of the protein sticks out and handed it to the Child. They grabbed it and took a self-satisfied bite out of it and then promptly spit it out. 

The Child spat a couple more times before throwing the protein stick at him. It hit his helmet and bounced off it onto the floor. 

He stared at the rejected protein stick and sighed. Of course the Child probably wanted more of the small lizards found on Arvala-7. The protein sticks were functional, but definitely not the kind of cuisine a child would want. 

“I have nothing else. Eat that or wait.” He picked up the protein stick and held it out to the Child again. 

Their ears flattened and the Child grimaced. 

“Are you hungry or not?” 

The Child shrieked, lifted their hands and made a squinty face.

Things began flying around the cockpit. Startled, he tried to duck to no avail. There wasn’t anywhere to go in the tiny cockpit. Every time something hit his helmet his ears rang sharply from the impact. 

“Stop!”

More things flew up and around him while the Child’s tantrum increased. Something hit the dash and the ship fell out of hyperspace with a harsh jolt.

“Fine!” 

He growled in frustration and all the flying objects halted midair and then fell to the floor. The Child squeaked, indignant.

“You could have broken something,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

The Child blinked at him and wiggled his fingers at him. A promise, or a threat, he wasn’t sure.

“No wonder they had your bassinet closed.” He tapped on the hyperspace coordinates screen, found the nearest waystation and input the directions into the navicomputer. If the attacks on Arvala-7 from other bounty hunters was any indication any stop would be dangerous, who knows who else had tracking fobs for the Child. He wasn’t about to let the Child wreck his ship because they were hungry. 

He pulled the hyperspace lever and they shuttered into hyperspace. The Child was quiet and grinned at him innocently. The Child knew what was happening. 

“A camtono of Beskar,” he said to the Child. That’s what they were worth. Worth all this trouble.

So much, for such a small child. Where were their parents? Why so much for just a child, why so many hunters for just a child, why had they been brought to Arvala-7 and guarded there so so long. Just a child.

A child, still a child at fifty would not be abandoned so young by its parents, not like the Blurrg on Arvala-7 who ate their mates and probably shat out 100 eggs in a night, only to rinse and repeat the cycle of vicious living. 

This child was small, soft, and strong in something that the galaxy was quickly forgetting and turning into a myth. No Mandalorian would forget the powers of the Jedi. Those tales were embedded into their childhood stories.

A Jedi. A Jedi this powerful in the hands of Imperials and the vestiges of the Empire. The uncertain feeling in his gut returned. 

The console beeped at him and he pushed the hyperspace lever up. They dropped out of hyperspace above a waystation orbiting a gas giant. He requested a landing zone and the station gave it seconds later. 

He was careful to use a fake name and registration for his ship. It wouldn’t stop any intrepid bounty hunters with more than a couple brain cells to rub together to find him but it would be enough to get in and out quickly. 

He let the little bassinet trail behind him again and the two of them walked out onto the waystation proper. There were dozens of species of all kinds working and talking and bartering. He found the nearest meat seller and offered the Child a variety of options before their eyes lit up at a particularly juicy-looking cubed meat. Smoked for three of the local planet’s day cycles according to the sign.

Of course it was also the most expensive meat offered by the seller. He pulled a big fat handful of credits out of his belt and bought a small pouch of the meat. The Child squeaked unhappily and he turned back to figure out what was making the Child grumpy this time. They were looking out into the crowd with apprehension. He tucked the pouch into his belt and placed the other over his blaster.

“Nound bu murishani!” a voice yelled out over the crowd and it parted. A Trandoshan was running at them with a crazed look in his eyes. 

He whipped his blaster out and hit the Trandoshan between the eyes and then spun around and hit the one who had shouted between the eyes also. He didn’t hesitate and made for his ship, keeping one eye on the bassinet and one on the crowd. 

They got back to the ship and just as he closed the gangplank behind him he heard more shouts. The others were hot on his heels. 

He got the Child back into their spot in the cockpit and then quickly lifted this ship off the landing platform without calling for permission to lift off.

The ship hummed and he saw just beyond the glow of the engines more ships rising to meet his own. His elderly ship would not survive a firefight with the ships now pursuing him. He checked one more time that the Child was secure and then punched the engines into overdrive. The ship blasted into space and he made a quick hyperspace calculation to get them away from their pursuers. 

The white and blue streaks of hyperspace took over the cockpit windows and he finally allowed himself to breathe. 

The Child quietly squeaked. He looked back at them and pulled the pouch of cubed meat out of his belt.

“This is the second time you’ve saved my life.” 

He pulled one of the cubes out and handed it over. The Child grabbed it and shoved it into their mouth. Their ears bounced happily with every cube he handed over. The feeling in his gut would not go away. It was the Mandalorian way to trust your gut.

He had a lot of thinking to do and the Child was at the center of it. The Child reached up and wiggled their fingers. "I am not picking you up."

The Child made a squinty face. The same squint that preceded the tantrum from earlier. 

He wordlessly picked the Child up out of the bassinet and held them. The armor was far from the comforting grasp of a parent but the Child didn't seem bothered and drifted off to sleep in his arms. He sighed and let the Child sleep. It was only a few hours until he would drop the child off with the elderly imperial and his Doctor Pershing. Only a few hours until he would have to resolve the feeling in his gut; For better or worse. 

THE END 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any fanfic in a hot minute and I feel bad but my original stuff is calling me with its siren song. Broke away for a minute to write this in celebration for how good the Mandalorian is.


End file.
